Virginia
by avngstories
Summary: Steve Rogers begins to learn about his new team mates Clint Barton and Natasha Romanoff, but what Steve doesn't know is how their story is tied to his own. Flashbacks include the capture and re-training of Black Widow, Sau Paulo, and Budapest. Warning: the early chapters are light, but later parts go real dark real quick. Movie-verse with Comic-verse origin stories.
1. Chapter 1

Set after the events of the "Avengers"… Virginia is a story about love, told in flashbacks. Love takes many forms: friendship, romance, and the kind of love a parent has for a child. _What would you do for the people you love?_

Chapter 1

_Two weeks after the Manhattan invasion, Clint and Natasha are still healing from both emotional and physical wounds. They are stationed at the SHIELD building in New York and are both on limited duty, given "busy work" to help takes their minds off the recent events. Steve Rogers has asked Fury for something to do as well. Fury sends him to help Barton and Romanoff, hoping they 3 can get used to working together… even though Fury knows very well that might not be easy as it should be._

One night, late, Barton and Romanoff were in the base common room. Since it was just the two of them, Clint could take his aids out. After his mandatory therapy session that day, his head was spinning and he just needed to tune the world out for a while. Clint was watching a movie with the cc on – Nat sleeping in a chair after taking a dose of painkillers. Clint was still worried about her. Her ankle had been so screwed up after her encounter with Banner and the alien battle, that surgery had been the only option to fix it. Clint still wasn't ready to let Natasha out of his sight. And Natasaha was just as unlikely to let him out of hers.

Rogers walked up behind them, but Clint was half asleep with his aids out. Luckily Natasha heard Rogers in time and popped up, nodding to Clint, who snapped off the TV with one hand, the other hand darted to the side table and back quicker than Steve had ever seen a hand move. Clint sprung up off the couch, glaring.

"Don't you know better than to walk in without announcing yourself Rogers? It's a good way to get a knife thrown at you." Steve could tell Barton was only half joking.

Natasha hoped Rogers was in his usual confused state and hadn't noticed anything strange about that scene.

But he did notice. Steve wished that Barton and Romanoff would stop assuming he was just another mindless shield weapon and look at him as an actual human being.

Romanoff smiled at him weakly, and then hobbled away on her crutches down the hall. Steve heard the the door lock behind her.

Barton excused himself too and disappeared behind another door. Again, the lock clicked.

_So much for getting to know each other_… thought Steve.

Three days later, Steve saw his chance and took it.

Barton and Romanoff were installing the SHIELD surveillance room in Stark Tower. Every available technician was still on the helicarrier and Barton didn't mind doing it himself anyway. Keeping busy had been good for him. Rogers was asked to help with the heaving lifting. Romanoff sat at a makeshift desk in the corner, her ankle still bandaged, engrossed in a laptop, installing the software for the room. Barton was hanging halfway out of the ceiling pulling wire, when…

Stark walked in wearing what looked like half an Iron Man suit: face mask, only the right arm, and left foot.

"Hey guys what's up?

Clint realized the room had gone silent. He looked down and saw Stark. _Must be something coming out the suit_, because Clint's aids were only transmitting a low hum. _Shit_, he thought. So there he was with Nat on the other side of the room with her head buried in her laptop, Rogers just standing at an angle underneath him and Stark with a metal mask over his face.

Clint knew that Nat preferred to ignore Stark, but he really needed her to look up from the lap top right now.

Sure enough, Stark addressed each one of them.

"Red, Capcicle, Legolas. I can't help but think there's some kind of threesome thing going on around here."

"Jealous Stark?" Natasha shot back. Not looking up.

Steve always tried to ignore stark's comments, but that was just inappropriate around a lady.

"Not nice Stark." He said.

Rogers expected a volley of curses from Barton. But there was nothing. No comment at all.

Clint loathed talking with the aids out but he didn't have another option at that point.

"Hey Nat, how's the encryption sequencing going? He had practiced this before, but still hoped his words had come out not too loud and not to soft.

Finally, she looked at him, noticed him twisting his head in a weird way.

"Take that stupid mask off when you're in here Stark." Natasha said sarcastically.

"Trying out something new. What do you miss my pretty face or something?"

"No."

"Liar."

Stark, keeping the mask down, started fiddling with a piece of equipment

Clint knew that Nat had his back, but he jumped down, quickly trying to come up with an excuse to get away from Stark.

Natasha scanned the room trying to figure out what was causing the problem when she too, realized it must be whatever "something new" stark was testing.

Rogers thought he knew what was going on and took the shot.

He casually moved behind Barton.

"Stark, take the mask off." He ordered.

"Why?"

"Because Agent Barton can't read your lips."

Natasha's eyes flew up to meet Clint's. He spun around to look at Rogers.

"That's what you're doing right now, right. Reading my lips?"

Barton just stared at him.

Tony flipped up the face mask.

"What?" he gasped.

Natasha and Clint exchanged looks. She was willing to play this anyway he wanted to, but he just had to let her know.

"Yes, Rogers, I am." - Slow and steady, just like he'd practiced. "Seems the hearing aids aren't working right now."

Stark was still flapping his jaw up and down like a nutcracker. But, Natasha knew he was about to let loose on one of his monologues any second. As quickly as she could with a bad ankle she moved in front of Clint, beside rogers, so Clint could focus on her.

"Stark!" She snaped. "WHAT are you testing in your helmet? The sentence ended softer than it started.

"Just a - - oh wait—I got it, it's the new frequency I put Jarvis on."

The AI took the cue and switched the frequency. _Changing now sir_

Stark looked at Barton with the most innocent, _oh shit I'm sorry_ look Clint had ever seen. Clint swallowed hard, his right fist still clenched.

Natasha looked at him. No reaction from Clint.

"Better?" she signed, simply spelling out the word with her hand at her side.

"No", his also signed back with his left hand.

"That didn't fix the problem, Tony." She said.

Rogers was still watching, noticing the silent exchange. Steve was trying to think of something helpful to say. But he still wasn't sure if Barton was going to take a swing at him.

Stark quickly removed the helmet, and all the other mismatched parts on his body – tossing them on the table.

He moved toward Clint, hand outstretch. "Can I see them a minute, Barton?"

Clint took a step back, but finally relaxed. Quickly removing the damaged aids, he simply, casually put them on Tony's hand.

"Good, right, I'm going to be right back. Right back I promise." He said backing out the door.

"Just hold tight." And disappeared down the hall.

Steve looked to Romanoff for a cue, anything that might tell him what to say next.

She shook her head at him. Steve couldn't tell if Natasha was mad at him, or Stark, or both. Women can be so hard to read. Natasha Romanoff was impossible to read when she didn't want to be.

Steve looked directly at Barton "Well, at least he's gone, right?

Clint smirked, but didn't say anything.

The 3 stood there staring at each other for another 20 seconds or so. All of them assumed that Stark had the intent of fixing the aids – but had no idea how long it was going to take.

Clint glanced at Natasha who responded with a small smile. It seemed to relax Clint a bit more.

Rogers took Barton's change of demeanor as a good sign.

"So…" Steve started.

Clint decided to put Rogers out of his obvious misery quickly.

"Wait till Stark gets back" he signed to Nat. She happily took a deep breath.

"Cap, can we just wait for Stark to do whatever, so Barton just has to say it once?" She both signed and spoke for the benefit of each man standing in in front of her.

Steve nodded enthusiastically. "Of course."

"Need to get some air." Clint signed to Nat and walked off.

It was just Steve and Natasha in the room. Steve wondered if he was about experience the mighty wrath of the famous Black Widow. He was a Super Soldier. He could take it – he hoped. Rogers was relieved and curious when the wrath didn't materialize.

"Ankle hurts." She said casually, and limped back to her chair.

"Sorry." Steve said, feeling little bad that his actions had caused her to have to stand on it.

"It's fine." Nat shrugged.

She just sat there, looking at Rogers, but her demeanor wasn't hostile. She was just waiting. Natasha was studying him, but he didn't seem to mind. Natasha was seeing what Peg had always said about Steve Rogers: he really cared about people. She slowly moved four fingers from her chin outward.

"What's that mean?" he asked curiously.

"It means _thank you_." She replied.

"Oh."

Barton was pacing up and down the hall when Stark came back. He was being trailed by a pair of rolling robots. Clint didn't want to know why.

"Here." Said Stark, handing over the little flesh colored pieces of plastic.

"Those are impressive. Special Shield technology, I'm assuming."

"Yeah." Clint grunted, sliding the aids back in…and they were working again.

"Thanks." He grunted again, not too nicely because it was Stark's fault in the first place.

Clint nodded to Stark to go back in the room. The robots stayed obediently in hall. Rogers and Romanoff observed the exchange through the window of the room. Natasha was relieved. Steve was very curious about what is going to happen next. The three men found a comfortable place to lean in the room; Natasha was still in her chair and was slightly amused at Clint's body language as he found himself the center of attention. Clint Barton was an observer, not one to ever be the center of attention. He shot her a glance, but she remained silent and seated. He knew he was on his own for this one.

"Had them almost 3 years now." He started, pointing to his head. "It was in Sao Paulo. The eggheads in r/d asked me to test a small sonic weapon for them. I had just shot it out on the end of an arrow when the damn thing went off too early. It knocked me on my ass and nearly blew my brain to mush."

Natasha tried to blink back the memory. _Trying not to remember what it felt like finding Clint on the ground, in horrible pain, a severe concussion, and unable to hear anything. _

_Clint's physical injuries were severe, but the psychological ones were worse. His recovery was too rushed. They'd been sent back to finish the mission in Sao Paulo too soon. The hearing aids failed at a crucial point in the mission. _

_Natasha still remembered the sound of Phil and Clint yelling at each other. Clint was swearing, but he was so pissed that his words weren't making any sense. Natasha was laying there on the stretcher, willing herself to stay calm, afraid the tears might break through any minute. _

_Only later, did Phil tell her about his conversation the next day with the director of r/d._

"…_you have 2 weeks to find a better solution for Agent Barton." He had said._

"…_because in 2 weeks I'm sending the Black Widow to collect that solution. You do understand what it is I'm telling you, don't you?" The man had understood exactly. The Black Widow still remembers the look of fear in the man's eyes when she did show up, exactly 2 weeks later._

The sound of Steve's voice brought Natasha back to the present.

"So, you were injured in the line of duty?" he said, half asking, half stating.

"Uh, yeah." Clint nodded, thinking _how the hell else would I get injured?_

"I mean, you were injured in the line of duty, but you returned to action, still doing all the things you could before? That's amazing." Steve said, sounding like he actually meant it. He had.

"Don't need your pity Rogers." Clint sighed.

"Barton!" Natasha snapped. Clint had heard that tone before. It was the tone she used when she was saying _"don't be an asshole."_

"Sorry, I mean thanks. And thank you too Stark. Really. Not too many people could have fixed 'em that quick." Clint said, shooting Nat a _there! are you happy? look_. Natasha rolled her eyes in response.

"You're welcome. And make sure you tell me next time if they go out when you're here in this building, you understand." Said Tony deliberately. "or anytime for that matter."

"Sure thing." Agreed Clint, almost smiling. _Almost._

With that, Stark turned around, left the room, and walked back down the hall with his robots trailing behind.

Again, awkward silence in the room.

"So what's with those _things_?" asked Steve.

Natasha chuckled, "They're his robots. He treats them like pets. They have names and everything." She said while shaking her head.

"Oh." Replied Steve. "So people have pet robots now?" That idea sounded just a little too weird for Steve Rogers.

"Just Stark." Clint replied, also laughing a bit.

Just then Natasha's laptop started beeping, indicating that the software was finally installed.

"We done now?" Clint asked her hopefully.

"Yes…" Natasha signed, powering down the laptop. She started packing it in a case.

"You want some dinner?" Clint asked both of them.

Both nodded in agreement.

Clint looked at Nat "YOU! Start for the elevator now, and I'll catch up with you. And if I see you off those crutches again, I'm going to carry you. You understand?" he said, squinting at her with one eye, a smile on his face.

Natasha shot him a dirty look, but reached for the crutches. Steve moved forward to take the bag. He had been there to carry stuff, after all.

"How 'bout I help her to the elevator while you lock down the room, Barton" Rogers offered.

"Sounds good, Cap." Said Clint as he turned to finish up the room.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

The next time Rogers, Barton, and Romanoff were together was the following evening in the common room. Natasha and Steve sat at the table, her reading the news on her phone, him reading a newspaper. She wasn't talking to him, but somehow seemed friendlier. Steve thought that maybe the day before was progress.

Rogers startled when the phone in Romanoff's hand buzzed and moved. She answered it and listened intently. All she said back was "I understand" and hung up. Natasha immediately got up from the table, grabbed her crutches, and walked away, not even looking at Rogers.

"_Is it something I said"_ Steve wonders to himself.

She passed Clint in the hall and whispered to him in Russian "I'm going down to Virginia. She fell again and it's bad this time."

"Call me when you get there." He replied back still in Russian. They both know Steve probably had enhanced hearing, but assumed that he didn't understand Russian.

"Let me know if ther is any change here too..." her words trailing off. She disappeared into her room to pack.

Barton headed over to common room, and saw Steve sitting there looking like he had nothing to do.

"So, uh, Nat is still off of active duty, so she's taking a little personal time away." He started. _What the hell was he supposed to do with Rogers now that Nat was leaving? _

"Hey Cap, you ever seen Star Wars?"

"What?" Steve said, bewildered. _Hadn't they just fought a war with things that came out of space?_

"You know the Star Wars movies? There's heroes and shit like that. You'll like it."

"Oh, ok. Sure."

It was easy for Natasha to catch a transport flight from New York to D.C. She had planned to rent a car and drive to the coast, but as she left the transport plane, she was greeted by a youngish looking female helicopter pilot.

"Director Fury asked me to give you a ride, ma'am,"

"Sure thing." Natasha nodded back to her and followed. It was always Phil that arranged things like this, almost like waving a magic wand, and suddenly whatever equipment or weapons you needed would be there. But, Fury did this? Natasha began to wonder what other of Coulson's duties Fury was taking over.

30 minutes later, Natasha exited the helicopter on the hospital landing pad. She swallowed hard, not sure what she was going to find, do, or say when saw Peggy Carter.

What she saw was heartbreaking. Peg had aged so much in the past 2 years. The super serum shot had its limitations after all. Lying before her was a frail old woman. She'd moved to this lovely retirement community near the beach. Natasha felt a pang of guilt remembering that she'd only been there once to visit Peggy. She'd found her on the porch, rocking, looking out at the ocean, as if waiting for something.

Peggy started when Natasha walked up on the porch.

"Natasha, she smiled." "My dear I haven't seen you in forever." She whispered as Natasha bent down to hug her carefully.

Natasha startled awake. She was back in the hospital room, holding Peggy's hand.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

How long had it been? How long since Natasha woke up in that hospital bed in New York? The day she woke up to her new life.

Those first few days in shield custody had been such a blur. She vaguely remembered running through the streets of Moscow, shot and failing fast. Natalia had realized that his might be the end. That after all she had done, even after she had escaped the Red Room, she was going to die in some unnamed alley on the outskirts of Moscow. The last thing she remembered of Moscow was an arrow whizzing by her head, hitting the brick wall behind her. Was she on a plane? Were men yelling? She couldn't remember. What language were they yelling in? It was English. They were speaking English."… So you thought you'd just hoist her over your shoulder and bring her in?" one man yelled.

".. .she was already shot…" the other, a deeper voice, yelled back. She remembered that deeper voice. It belonged to the arrow. _'Don't' move or the next one will pierce your skull' _the voice called. He spoke in Russian, but it wasn't her Russian. It had an accent. It had an American accent. He was farther away, up high, was he on the roof above her? How had she not seen him? How had she not seen an American with bow? She must have passed out again, because the next thing she knew she was in a hospital bed in restraints. She also knew her fogginess wasn't just from her injuries. She was drugged.

"Где я?" she mumbled. _Where am I?_

Natasha startled awake again. The sun was streaming in the windows. She's slept in the chair beside Peggy's bed.

The older woman stirred, and Natasha smile as brightly as she could.

"Hello Ma'am." She said in her best possible American accent.


	4. Chapter 4

The next morning Barton managed to find something for Rogers to do. He told Rogers that Fury wanted someone to keep tabs on Stark whenever possible. That part was true enough. Clint made an excuse about having two long appointments at SHIELD medical and asked Rogers to stick close to Stark for the day. Rogers seemed to appreciate the assignment. Truth was, Clint only had one quick appointment, which gave him at least 2 hours.

Clint made his way through the maze of rooms and labs that was SHIELD medical and approached a secure door. Clint dreaded entering his code on the pad, he was sure if had to go through this door one more time, he was going to lose it. The guard greeted him on the other side.

"Good morning, Captain Barton."

"Morning," said Clint wondering if the guy was a complete moron. There was nothing 'good' about this wing of the medical bay.

"Just thought I'd check in on him again." Clint mumbled.

"Of course, Sir." Again with the moronic cheerfulness.

Clint made his way to the end of hall and for the 4th time in 2 weeks looked through the window at Phil Coulson. A nurse approached him with a compassionate look on her face.

"Still no change, I'm afraid." She said gently.

"Yeah, I know. Just wanted to say Hi." Yah, saying _Hi _to a man in a coma. That made a whole lotta sense.

"You can go in" the nurse said, patting Barton on the shoulder.

Clint pulled a chair over his usual corner and sat down. Staring at Phil, he was reminded of how often they'd all been in this situation, but that it was never Phil in the bed. Up until now, it had been Clint twice and Nat once. Never Phil. And now it was.

Clint just sat there for a while, staring at nothing, thinking about everything that had happened in the last few weeks. Still not sure if it was all real, or just some really long stupid dream. "So, uh, they still haven't gotten all those things cleaned up. Hear they're starting to smell real bad. Midtown is still closed off, really starting to piss people off." Clint said to Phil as if they back in the bar in Sliver City. "Hill told me the council scattered like someone stepped on an ant mound. She thinks a couple of them might even get replaced. Guess there's a silver lining in all this shit after all…" Clint knew he was supposed to talk to people even when they were unconscious, because some docs swore it made a difference, but he was beginning to wonder if any of mattered anymore.

It was almost 3 weeks now. He and Nat had been so incredibly pissed when they watched Fury plunge a hypodermic with one of his damn chemical concoctions into Phil's chest when Phil flat lined for a 3rd time after getting out of surgery. Phil had told Fury he never wanted the stuff. But Fury did it anyway. Problem was, it didn't seem to work very well. Sure, it kept his heart going, but not much more. As far as they knew, Fury hadn't done it again. Truth was, Clint hoped that he would. He didn't care about Phil's distaste for 'better living through chemistry'. Clint just wanted Phil to wake up and for everything to go back to the way it had been before that bastard Loki had shown up.

Clint stood up and checked the time on his phone. "Gotta go rescue Rogers from Stark." He said softly.

"See 'ya later man."

And Clint left the room, walking back down the hall toward the cheerful moron, wondering if the next month was going to be as incredibly shitty as the last.


	5. Chapter 5

It was around 6:00pm when Natasha called…

"I saw Phil today" he said

"And?" she said hopefully

"No change."

She sighed. "Peg is awake now, but her mind is here one minute, and gone the next."

"I'm sorry." Was all Clint could say.

The obvious hung in the silence over the call.

"Clint, I think this is the end for her. What should we do?"

"I don't know, Tasha."

"I think I should stay here a while longer. I'll call Fury tonight and maybe he can talk to her, you know, maybe convince her? What do you think?"

"I think it's a good idea, Nat."

"She's asking for me, I have to go. I love you."

"I love you too." He said and pressed END CALL

Clint knew that being around Rogers tonight was going to be impossible, so he just left. After everything that had happened in the last month, this was just too much. Clint found the roof of the building and sat there, leaning against the wall of the HVAC system, just looking out across the skyline, hoping that no one found him tonight. After several minutes, his mind began to wander and somehow landed on that night in Moscow, the night that EVERYTHING in his life changed…

"You said I could say no to any kill, sir."

"Yes, I did say that, but what I'm wondering is why you chose this one?"

"Our intel was old. She left her employers 6 months ago. They were hunting her too and got to her first."

"Hummf" grumbled Fury.

"And…" Barton hesitated "and I saw her hold back on kill to save an innocent bystander. The intel we had said she wouldn't care, but she did."

That got Fury's attention. "So you think she can be turned to an asset?"

"Don't know sir, but the thought did cross my mind."

"Dismissed, Agent." Said Fury and Clint turned to leave.

"It was the right call, Barton."

"Thank you sir."

"Oh, don't thank me yet."

Clint was never sure what Fury's oblique references meant, and he wasn't going to push it just then. Barton nodded again and left.

Coulson stopped him in the hall. "You were right, they were hunting her. Latest intel says she was ordered to blow up a hospital, but refuse, and then made a break from her handlers, but the details get fuzzy after that."

"That sounds an awful like what just happened in Moscow last month."

"They sent someone else." Said Coulson flatly.

"So what now?" asked Barton.

Coulson scoffed at him "what, I thought you had a plan, hotshot?"

Barton shot him a pissy look.

"Just be prepared to finish what you started, ok?" Phil continued, admonishment still in his tone.

"Don't get carried away in your encouragement, Coulson."

"Oh, don't worry, I won't." said Coulson with a tired look and turned to walked into the director's office.

Coulson sat down wearily and noticed Fury's smug look.

"She's sedated." Coulson sighed and tossed a $10 bill on the desk.

Fury chuckled.

"So, boss, what's your plan for handling a 19 yr. old Russian girl with over 100 kills to her name?"

Fury lost the smug look a bit "I'm thinking about it." was all he could offer at the moment.


	6. Chapter 6

Clint wasn't sure how long he slept on the roof, but it was well after midnight and getting cold when the sound of a SHIELD chopper approaching the landing pad woke him up. He quickly retreated back to the barracks, hoping that Rogers was in the gym as usual. Luckily – he was. Barton collapsed on his bed, wondering what Nat was doing right then.

Natasha was just about asleep in her hotel room when her phone buzzed:

_Miss you_ the text read.

_Miss you too_

_What did Fury say?_

_He talked to her on the phone._

_And?_

_She said no, but her face said yes._

_That's good._

_I'll call you in the morning. Bye hotshot._

The next morning, Barton was not at all surprised when he heard Fury's voice in the mess hall. The tall man dressed in black strode over to the table where Barton and Rogers were having breakfast. He sat down and out of nowhere a private delivered a cup of coffee and disappeared just as quickly.

"Morning sir," nodded Barton. Rogers copied him.

"So, Cap, how's it going helping out with Stark-sitting?"

"Fine sir, he stays in his lab most of the time." Sighed Steve.

Fury glanced at Barton who took a sudden interest in his eggs. Fury continued to address Rogers "Rogers, we have to talk about something…" Fury hesitated. Rogers sat up straight having noticed the serious tone in the Director's voice. "Rogers, you need to take a trip. There's someone you need to see."

"See who sir?" Steve asked.

"Someone you used to know…"

Fury looked down at his coffee cup, not sure what else to say. Steve gulped a little, realizing that there was only one person left to see. And he had decided weeks ago that he was not going to-that he couldn't. He glanced at Barton, who was also looking down. It was clear that Clint was aware of what Fury meant. _But how could he_?

"Cap, Barton will fly you down. I suggest you go today. Before it's too late." Fury said in a softer tone, his eyes pleading his case.

Rogers leaned back, blinking, trying to grasp what Fury was saying. "Too late?" he choked a little.

Fury stood up, he wasn't exactly good with things like this anyway, and this damn situation was too sad for too many words. He nodded to Barton, "There's a G550 fueled and waiting."

"Yes sir." He nodded, glad that Fury had the heart to make to tough call.

Fury grasped Rogers shoulder for a second and then simply walked away. Barton looked at Rogers, who was looking at the ceiling, refusing to acknowledge Fury, or anyone for that matter. Clint cleared the dishes from the table and walked back to Steve, who still hadn't moved.

"Rogers? You ok?"

"How the hell could I be ok?"

Clint took a step back, surprised at Roger's anger, but understanding the pain behind it.

Steve looked up at him "There is nothing OK about this Barton. There is nothing OK about having the life you know ripped away from you. There is nothing OK about waking up one day to find that everything and everyone you know and loved is gone. There is nothing OK about having time suddenly turn into this evil _thing_ that rips you apart." He spat out.

"I know." Is all Barton could say.

"Really? How could you possible know that?"

"I know that Peg Carter loved you."

Steve sat up straight again, this time really pissed, "What did you say?"

"I said I know that she loved you. She never married, you know. Never had a family. She worked. She worked her whole life right up until 5 years ago." Said Clint, relieved to finally be able to say the truth.

Steve looked at him with a mixture of shock and anger "How could you possibly know that Barton!"

"She's a friend, Rogers. She's a good friend to me and to Natasha. Nat especially."

Steve shook his head in denial, "How? When? I don't understand?"

Barton leaned in closer. "Steve, get on the plane with me, man. We'll talk on the way, ok?"

Once again, reality had taken a bend and Steve Rogers felt helpless. He nodded in surrender to Barton who grabbed his arm and hauled him up out of the chair.

"So, you'll come?" Barton asked hopefully.

Steve nodded. Barton realized that was all he was going to get out the man and left the mess hall, Rogers trailing behind, feeling as dazed as the day he had woken up from the ice.

Ninety minutes later Barton was piloting a small but fast jet from New York to Virginia Beach, Rogers in the co-pilot seat. Steve stared out the window, not ready to talk. Barton gave him the space. After a few minutes, Rogers softened a bit. "Is this where Natasha went to?" he asked. Barton nodded his head.

"H-how long have you known her?" Steve asked tentatively.

"About 8 years, I guess. I've been with SHEILD 11 years, but I didn't meet her until she came in to help with Natalia."

"Huh? Who is Natalia?"

"Natalia Romanova was a Russian assassin who was taken into SHIELD custody 8 years ago. Margaret Carter was Director of the Congressional Archives at the time, but Director Fury asked her to return to SHEILD to help re-train Romanova. And she did." He said while still looking at his gauges.

"What? You mean? You mean Natasha?"

"Yep."

"Peggy trained Natasha to be a SHILED agent?" And suddenly that didn't seem so strange to Steve. It even made sense, in some weird way. Peggy would have been the perfect person to oversee someone like what Natasha must have been back then. But then his mind raced back to something else, something he didn't want to think about.

"Barton, how old is she?"

"She's 96."

"But? You said 8 years. You mean she was 88 when you met her?"

"I guess she was, yes."

"What was she like?"

"She was a spitfire, but I guess you know that, don't you?"

Steve nodded. He needed more time to think. More time to process all that had happened in the last 2 hours.

Barton looked forward, at his gauges, at the sky, thinking about that time, 8 years ago, when things were so different…


	7. Chapter 7

_2004_

Barton had just collapsed on his pillow when the alarms went off. _Not another drill? Please no_. Was all he could think. He popped up and grabbed his clothes, boots, and gun anyway. The next alarm was different_. Shit. A hostage drill at 2 in the morning? Really?_

Barton headed for his assigned duty station, which was stupid, because he didn't have any official duties at this base. His duties always happened in other places like roof tops and alleys. Teams hustled past him, Barton unimpressed by their performance. Just then his walkie talkie buzzed...

"Barton, this is Coulson, get your ass down to the armory now."

"Understood." What's going on?"

"She broke out of her room and has a guard by a knife inside the armory."

_OH Shit_. "On my way Coulson." Yelled back Barton.

He took off for the stairs, rushing past another set of guards "Make a hole! Make a hole!" He yelled. The idiots didn't move out of the way fast enough, so he hoped over the rail and down onto the next flight of stairs. He hit the door to the next floor hard, drew his gun, and made his way over to the huddle of guards in front of the armory. These guys knew him enough to get out of the way. They parted to reveal Coulson standing in front of the door, gun raised, peering through the glass.

"She's still slow from the drugs, and she's disoriented, which is probably the only reason the guy is still alive." Whispered Coulson.

Barton nodded. "I'm going in." he said and handed Coulson his gun.

"What? Are you out of your mind Barton, take the gun."

"No. if she sees me as a threat, that guy is toast. Trust me Coulson."

Phil shot him a dirty look, but backed away from the door, motioning the guards to do the same.

Barton stopped, having thought of something, "Coulson, give me your jacket!"

"What?"

"Give me your jacket now," he motioned up and down, "Trust me."

Coulson looked at him like he was insane but complied, striping off his blue suit coat thinking that this was the last time he was going to see it.

Barton folded it over his arm, took a deep breath, and opened the door. Natalia was in one corner of the room, up against a wall, her arm wrapped around the rookie guard, a knife to his throat. The man had obviously given up trying to fight her. He had slashes on his arms and was bleeding from a gash on the forehead. He was just breathing hard, wondering when in the hell someone was going shoot this insane girl.

She flinched when she saw Barton enter the room, but didn't make a move. She could tell he was different. Her eyes widened when she saw he wasn't armed.

"Наталья отпустить его." _Natalia let him go_ He took a step towards her.

"нет" _no_

"Let him go, and no one will hurt you." Another step forward. Barton could see her bleeding through her bandages. She was breathing hard and trying to focus through the haze. He wondered how much longer she was going to be able to keep this up.

"нет" she hissed.

"Он ничего, он того не стоит." _He's nothing, he's not worth it_ Another step forward. The guard shot Barton a _what the hell_ look but realized the agent was distracting his captor so he could slip free when the time was right.

"Отойди" _Stay back_ she pressed the knife into the guards' neck. Barton didn't flinch, didn't stop moving forward.

"У тебя кровь, позвольте мне вам помочь." _You're bleeding, let me help you_ he raised a hand to her. She started shaking from the blood loss, but the knife stayed dangerously close to the man's artery. Barton was close enough now. He just had to get the guard to respond to his cue. Barton's eyes met the hostage's and the guard understood his orders.

In one quick movement Barton lunged forward to grab her arm while the guard slipped down, somehow managing to get his neck out of the way just in time. He scampered away as Barton held Natalia's arm with the knife tight. She kicked at him, but he was too strong her in her injured state. Or so he thought. Without warning, she whipped free of his grip and landed a good punch directly to his left eye. He flinched, but lunged forward and grabbed her by the waist, careful of her bleeding wound. She struggled, but the blood loss was winning. Barton took the jacket and wrapped it around her shoulders, using is to both secure and comfort her. She cried out as she collapsed in his arms.

"Это нормально, это нормально, у меня есть ты. Я не собираюсь делать тебе больно." _It's ok, it's ok, I've got you. I'm not going to hurt you _Still holding her from behind, he sat down on the floor, holding her tight in his lap, rocking her softly to try to sooth her.

Coulson and the response team took that window to rush in. Clint raised his hand to hold them back for minute longer. "Get the medics," she's bleeding he called from across the room. The team leader got on the walkie talkie while Coulson moved forward to get a better look at Natalia. She was mumbling in Russian, with a few English words maybe.

"Who are you?" she mumbled out in English just as she stared to pass out.

"I'm Clint Barton." He said quietly.


	8. Chapter 8

The rest of the flight to Virginia Beach was silent. Rogers stared ahead or out the window, not offering to talk. Barton didn't push him. He understood. A car was waiting at the hanger and Rogers stayed silent the whole ride as well. It wasn't too long of a drive to the hospital. They found Natasha waiting for them in the lobby. She cast a knowing look to Clint and approached Rogers carefully. He gave her a pained stare.

"Steve, I'm glad you came." She smiled softly at him. Taking him by the arm, she led him to the elevators, Barton a few steps behind.

Peggy's room was dimmed from the drawn shades. The faint sound of a heart monitor with the volume turned down could be heard beeping. Steve Rogers swallowed hard, turned to look to Clint and Natasha for encouragement, and walked over to her beside. The two agents disappeared from the doorway without a word or a sound.

She stirred a bit, but her eyes were still closed. "Natasha dear, is that you?"

"No," he bit his lip, "Peggy, it's Steve." There, he'd done it. He'd said her name.

Her eyes fluttered open. For a moment he wasn't sure that she really recognized him. But, then a wave of lucidity flowed over her. "Steve, is it really you? You came?"

"Of course I came, Peggy." He took her hand gently. "It's not too late for that dance, you know."

She smiled. "I'm afraid it is." She sighed softly.

"Never." He shook his head. "You promised." He bent down to kiss her gently on the forehead. "Never."

"Will you stay then, until I can dance with you?" she asked.

"I'll stay as long as you want me too, Peggy." He smiled while holding her frail hand gently in his.

With his other arm, he pulled over a chair and sat down, never letting go of her hand. She closed her eyes, drifting back to sleep.

Barton and Romanoff were sitting in a small waiting room, hands entwined, but not talking. There just wasn't anything good to say right now. Fate was a cruel bastard. Bad things happen to good people. No amount of effort, or atonement, or wishing could change that. Clint felt himself dozing off when Natasha startled and grabbed his arm hard.

"Fury's here." She gasped. Clint shot up to see Nick Fury walking down the hall. They both thought the same thing: _Phil_. Barton hurried down the hall to meet Fury, searching the older man's face for any indication of what might have happened. Fury raised his hand. "Barton."

"Sir?" he questioned. "Is everything OK?"

"Just thought I'd pay her a visit." He said.

Barton breathed a sigh of relief. "Of course. But Rogers is still in there."

Fury nodded and walked toward Romanoff, still sitting, still holding her breath a bit.

"Romanoff, how are you?" He sat down next to her.

"Fine sir." Clint found another chair opposite them.

"Damn sad thing this is." He said while shaking his head. The other two nodded in agreement.

Fury studied them both closely, trying to figure out how they were really holding up. The events of the last several weeks had shaken everyone, Fury included. The baseline of normal had shifted – a lot. He never doubted that Barton and Romanoff would make it through, but he wondered at what cost this time. These two kids had already been through so much. How much pain and torture could a human being endure? Natasha left her chair to sit beside Clint once more, propping up her bad ankle on another chair and leaning into Clint for support. All three settled down in their seats to wait for Rogers to leave the room. Fury glanced at Peggy's room, thinking about the cost that Steve Rogers and Peggy Carter had paid to serve their country. He glanced again at Barton and Romanoff.

Eight years, he thought. It's been eight years already. He knew he shouldn't think of them as kids anymore. But he couldn't help but think of the first time he seen this girl…

She'd escaped her room and held a man by knife point. Luckily, Barton had gotten there in time and she was back in her room – retrained – again. Fury decided it was time he had a talk with her. He approached her room in the infirmary and found Agent Barton sitting in a chair outside the door. There was some kind of rope in his hand.

"Is that a net, Agent Barton?" he asked

"Yes, sir, it is." Smiled Barton

Furry shook his head and entered her room…

Nick Fury was not known as an emotional person, but the sight of the girl in the room nearly brought tears to his eyes. She was till passed out cold, so he sat down and started to read the file again. From what they knew, she was about 19 or 20. After her parent's death under questionable circumstances, she had been kidnapped and brainwashed as a child. Most certainly she had been abused in every way: mentally, physically, and sexually. What was even worse than that is that the bastards had taught her that the abuse is what made her stronger. This Red Room program was by far the worst case of torture Nick Fury had ever come across. But no matter how hard SHIELD and every other honorable organization in the world tried, they couldn't get to the Red Room. Nick Fury meant to change that. Somehow this girl had managed to survive and escape. For weeks, Fury had been watching her, looking for any signs that might give him a reason to spare her life. But, then she'd killed again, this time as a mercenary. SHIELD had no choice but to order a hit on her.

It wasn't an accident that Fury sent Barton. Truthfully, Fury really wasn't sure how the op was going to go. Barton could have just as easily taken the shot. The mission had been a test – for both of them.

Fury knew Coulson was squeamish on this op and he had to let Phil warm up to this idea. When Fury first met Phil Coulson, he pegged him for being a cold hearted sonofabitch. But then Fury found out that the man had lost his wife to cancer the year before. Phil had buried his grief in his work, and he was damn good at it. Coulson excelled at recruiting and training. He was the best ops guy the CIA had in Europe. There wasn't anybody or anything that would stop him from completing a mission. After a few years, Fury finally had enough favors due his way that he requested Coulson be assigned to SHIELD. The CIA handler had still been pissed from losing an asset to the other side, and he was ready for a change. Fury knew that Phil had never moved on after losing his wife. He had no kids, no family, and no emotional ties at all. Fury was prepared to accept Coulson's lack of emotion in exchange for his skills. But, sometimes, people surprised you. Coulson had really embraced the SHILED mission of protecting the world from all types of threats. And Phil had surprised him again when Coulson had first identified Clint Barton as a potential asset for SHEILD. Coulson had insisted that this army sniper that had managed to get himself thrown in jail was and ideal agent for them. Fury was skeptical, but Barton had exceeded all their expectations in just 3 years. When Fury had asked Phil how he'd done it Phil had replied that Barton was one that turned his own life around, Coulson had just helped him find a reason to do it. That's when Fury knew that he had found the perfect person to start the special initiative Fury had been considering for years.

Fury's thoughts were interrupted by Rogers standing in front of him "Director Fury, sir, I didn't expect to see you here."

"Ms. Carter was a friend, Rogers. A damn good friend." He replied. "How is she?

Rogers looked at the ground. "She's asleep for now, I just wanted to come and out let you all know that I'd like to stay here with her tonight, if that's ok?"

Fury nodded. Barton and Romanoff followed suit. Fury walked to the doorway of her room and peered in. _She's the last one_, he thought. But, memories of the past had long ago ceased to affect Nick Fury. The cards had been dealt and he had no choice but play the hand he'd been given.


	9. Chapter 9

Steve stood behind Fury in the doorway of Peggy's room. Fury turned to him and put his arm on Steve's shoulder. "Take as much time as you like." He sighed and walked away. Rogers could tell that Fury wanted to say more, but held back. Why, he didn't know and wasn't in the frame of mind to dissect Nick Fury's motives at the moment. The only person that mattered to him was laying in hospital bed, lost at sea in her own mind. Steve returned to his chair by her bed. When, if, she woke up again, he wanted to be there for her.

Barton and Romanoff watched Fury disappear down the hall. It wasn't in Fury's nature to stay in one place very long. Clint had never minded. But Natasha had always wondered why Fury always kept people, even the people closest to him, at arm's length. She suspected that, like herself and Clint, Fury was haunted by some terrible thing in his past. But, she would never know the whole story; that she knew for certain. Some memories were best left in the past, locked away, never again able to hurt you.

As soon as Fury boarded his chopper, he motioned the pilot to take off. He leaned his head back on the seat and took a good, deep, long breath. He remembered something Peggy had once quoted to him, something written by Oppenheimer:

"_In battle, in forest, at the precipice in the mountains,_

_On the dark great sea, in the midst of javelins and arrows,_

_In sleep, in confusion, in the depths of shame,_

_The good deeds a man has done before defend him." _

But would their work with SHIELD ever be enough to erase the past? Would the good ever outweigh the bad?

2004

He made his way up the steps of the giant stone building, its columns and carvings highlighted at night with weak spotlights. He never liked the Archives building – afraid they might try to lock him in here one day or something. Her office was just about as far away from the entrance as was physically possible, but he eventually found it. The door was half open, a soft yellow light shone out into the dark hallway. He knocked anyway.

"Yes? Who is it?" she questioned, the trace of a British accent still lingered.

He opened the door all the way and stood at the threshold. She regarded him carefully. Taking a moment to study his appearance.

"Are you the Ghost of Christmas Past?" she quipped.

He smiled and walked into the office. "Alive in the here and now, I'm afraid." He replied. She motioned for him to sit down. "How are you?" he offered.

She cocked her head and smiled, "Right as rain as always, Nicholas."

He took a deep breath, not sure how to begin. She noticed his hesitation. "My, this must be serious." She sighed out.

"I need your help, Agent Carter."

It was her turn to take a deep breath. For Nick Fury to be here in her office, at this time of night, wearing civilian clothes, proverbial hat in hand, something was serious indeed.

_How did one begin a conversation like this?_ He thought. In the past, he would have never been able to discuss a subject like this with a lady like Agent Carter. Not that he thought she was unable to handle the issues – far from it. But that such disgusting matters would never have been discussed between someone like him and someone like her. But this was a new century, a new millennium, and they weren't the people they used to be. Too many decades had passed for either of them to claim they hadn't evolved into something else – people who could clinically discuss the most horrible of subjects as if they were discussing the weather.

"Very well, out with it then." She coaxed, the look on her face telling him that she could handle whatever horrible information he was about to lay in front of her.

"In the 1970's a HYDRA cell popped up in the Soviet Union. It wasn't much different from the other ones, so we treated it accordingly. But by the '80's we started getting chatter that they were up to something that sounded like a Super Soldier program." She nodded in understanding. He breathed deeply and continued, "From what we know, they had taken the component ingredients of Erskins' formula and were trying to re-formulate them. They coupled that with behavior modification theories with the end result being soldiers who were enhanced, but not with the other side-effects." He trailed off, biting his tongue a bit on the word 'side-effects." She narrowed her eyes at him, clearly offended by the fact that he thought she couldn't hear the word 'side-effects'.

"And?" was all she said.

"And, then MI-6 got an agent into the group. What they learned was that the subjects weren't soldiers." He stopped. The images of the photographs haunted him still. "They were children. Little girls. They were experimenting on little girls." He voice broke and he looked down at the floor.

"What kind of experiments?" she whispered, her own voice betraying her shock.

"All kinds." Was all he could say. She could read the files later. Words were not suited for what was contained in them.

"I see." She breathed out.

"The agent died in the line of duty, but she did manage to get some information out. It just wasn't enough for us to be able to find them."

"Why are you here now, Director Fury? What has changed?" she asked coolly.

"One of the girls escaped."

"And?"

"And we have her." He confessed.

"What?" she gasped.

"We have her in New York. She's different, Peggy. She's – she – she can be helped." He slapped his hand on her desk. "If we can help her, then maybe she can help us! This might be our chance to take out these bastards for good!"

Peggy Carter didn't even flinch at the sight of the angry man pounding on her desk. It was sign, a sign that maybe Nick Fury still had some emotion left. Maybe he was still human after all.

She stood up and looked him in the eye. "What are you asking of me?"

"I'm asking you to come back to New York with me and help me help HER." He said, his tone a little softer now, almost pleading.

She nodded. "How could I possibly say no?" she cocked her head at him, "My oath to SHIELD has no time limit, Director Fury." They both knew that she had fulfilled her duty to SHEILD many times over, but it simply wasn't in her nature to turn down a request on something so important.

"Thank you." He managed to get out. "Thank you Agent Carter."

"I can be there by Friday" she offered.

"We'll be ready for you." He replied as he turned towards the door. "Goodbye Agent Carter."

She nodded, "Goodbye Director Fury."

Her chopper hit the helipad on the SHIELD building at 9:00 am two days later. Fury was there to greet her, Agent Coulson stood beside him. "This is the help I promised you, Coulson." Said Fury without even looking at the younger man.

Coulson nodded. Fury couldn't help but notice that even the stoic Phil Coulson blinked in surprise at the woman walking towards them. She was an older woman, fairly petite, dressed in a smart blue suit. Her hair and makeup were flawless, despite having just exited a helicopter.

Fury knew she'd looked at the files. But whatever doubts he had about her fortitude were dashed when he saw the look on her face. It was a look of determination and confidence.

Fury introduced the two agents, "Agent Carter, meet Agent Phil Coulson." She nodded to him in acceptance.

"Gentlemen, please take me to the girl now. There's no time to waste." She declared. Coulson's eye's flickered again at the air of authority in her voice. He knew well enough to obey and order when he heard one.

"Please follow me, ma'am." He deferred.

As they entered the secure wing of the infirmary, Fury could hear screams from inside her room. The two guards regarded their superiors with nervous glances.

"How long has she been like this?" asked Coulson flatly.

"Just about an hour now, sir." Said the senior guard.

"Where's Barton?" asked Fury.

"He took the night shift, sir. We relieved him at 07:00."

Fury nodded, "Very well, open the door please."

The guards looked shocked, "Sir?" the senior one questioned.

"I said open the door." Gestured Fury.

Agent Carter moved forward, ready to enter the room despite the obvious reticence of the guards.

Fury motioned them back and gave them a wink.

The junior guard tapped his code into the security panel and turned the handle. The screaming stopped.

Without hesitation, Peggy walked in the room and looked at Natalia for the first time- a petite girl with long red hair and peaches and cream complexion. Her green eyes were bloodshot from crying. She was in restraints. She was stronger now. Color had returned to her face. But she was still wild, still wouldn't speak anything but Russian, still believed she was a prisoner.

"Leave us now." Carter ordered.

Coulson looked uneasy, but followed Fury's lead and they closed the door behind Carter.

"Hello Natalia" she said politely. "My name is Peggy Carter and I'd like to speak with you, if that's ok?"


End file.
